


Take This Waltz (It's Yours Now)

by irisbleufic



Series: Delicate, Dangerous, Obsessed [35]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alfred Pennyworth is a Saint, Asexual Character, Asexuality Spectrum, Bickering, Christmas, Christmas Party, Comedy of Errors, Dancing, Demisexual Character, Demisexuality, Developing Friendships, Disability, Do not translate without permission or copy to another site/app, Drinking & Talking, Epilogue, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Hanukkah, Heroes to Villains, Holidays, Humor, Innuendo, Inspired by Music, Intersex Character, Jerome Valeska Lives, Light Angst, M/M, Making Jim Gordon Suffer, Meddling Kids, Mistletoe, Neurodiversity, Nonbinary Character, Other, Reconciliation, Rivalry, Romance, Sibling Rivalry, Siblings, Trans Character, Twins, Villains, Villains to Heroes, Wayne Manor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-27 08:49:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21389419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisbleufic/pseuds/irisbleufic
Summary: “Hey, if it isn’t everybody’s favorite limey,” Harvey said, rolling down the driver’s side window.Jim leaned forward enough to peer outside with a frown. “Alfred,” he said. “Merry Christmas.”“Same,” Alfred agreed, proffering the cups until each had taken one.  “Mind if I join you?”“You mean in the car?” Harvey asked, slurping his eggnog.  “Whooo-eee. Nope.”Once they’d grudgingly unlocked the vehicle, Alfred opened the back door and slid in.“What brings you to this evening’s festivities?” Alfred asked, already knowing the answer.“Personally?” Jim countered.  “The lack of an invitation.  Professionally?  The entire guest-list.”
Relationships: 514A & Bruce Wayne, 514A & Fish Mooney, 514A & Ivy Pepper, 514A & Jerome Valeska, 514A & Selina Kyle, 514A/Jerome Valeska, Alfred Pennyworth & Jim Gordon & Harvey Bullock, Ecco/Ivy Pepper (Gotham), Edward Nygma & Bruce Wayne, Harvey Bullock/Jim Gordon, Jeremiah Valeska & Bruce Wayne, Jeremiah Valeska & Jerome Valeska, Jeremiah Valeska & Jerome Valeska & Bruce Wayne, Jeremiah Valeska/Bruce Wayne, Jerome Valeska & Bruce Wayne, Lucius Fox/Alfred Pennyworth, Oswald Cobblepot & Edward Nygma & Olga, Oswald Cobblepot & Jeremiah Valeska, Oswald Cobblepot & Martin & Edward Nygma, Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma, Selina Kyle & Ivy Pepper & Bridgit Pike, Selina Kyle/Bridgit Pike
Series: Delicate, Dangerous, Obsessed [35]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/726708
Comments: 10
Kudos: 74





	Take This Waltz (It's Yours Now)

Lucius grabbed the door when it swung inward. Alfred had asked him to remain close in case their latest arrivals proved difficult, but the docile procession was a pleasant shock. Getting to gawk at Wayne Manor was an incentive, even though both guests had been there before.

Once Alfred and Bruce had entered, each carrying several confiscated weapons off to lock away, Jerome followed with a strikingly-dressed Five on his arm. Five’s hair hung loose, elegantly skimming his shoulder blades, a contrast to the messy braid Lucius had seen while treating him.

“Welcome,” Lucius said, holding the door until they were both inside, hoping that a formal greeting would mask his abrupt uncertainty. “Happy Holidays. Did you, ah, anticipate some target shooting?”

“That’s _exactly_ what I told your better half,” Jerome replied, unbuttoning Five’s coat for him.

“Mr. Fox,” Five said, eyes grave and earnest, but not without warmth, “thanks for having us.”

“Not to butt in on your pleasantries, but could we, uh…” Jerome made a rolling gesture with his hands, hiding some understandable discomfort. “You know, get to the potentially upsetting medical stuff first?”

Lucius blinked in surprise. “Actually, there’s nothing upsetting. I’ll make sure to give you the paperwork before you leave, but—” he shifted his glance to Five “—the gene therapy you’ve undergone for the past couple months has been successful. You’re in the clear.”

Jerome pulled Five close, hugging him so hard it looked like it might hurt. That still wasn’t possible, though. Lee, Lucius, and their team on loan from Wayne Industries might have succeeded in saving Five’s life, but he still couldn’t feel pain.

Outwardly unaffected, Five tucked his chin over Jerome’s shoulder, still holding Lucius’s gaze.

“I’ll thank Bruce for his contributions, too,” he said, rubbing Jerome’s back, “but not right now.”

* * *

Ivy set down her cup of Alfred’s famous eggnog and produced the surprise she’d brought along.

“Ta-da!” Ivy announced, waving the mistletoe. “Who wants to ask Bruce where we can hang it?”

“Not it,” Bridgit said, setting her finger on her nose. “Seriously. He’s a grouch and a half.”

“You _could_ ask me,” said Jeremiah, miffed, still standing next to the window with his glass.

“Oh my fuckin’ God,” Selina said, brushing past Bruce as he came in. “I already need a drink.”

“Okay,” Bruce said slowly, appealing first to Ivy, and then to Jeremiah. “What did I miss?”

Mere steps behind, a bleary-looking Jerome came in with his arm around someone who could only be Five.

“Ecco!” Jerome said. “Sorry—Ms. Eccles. Heard about you from that one over there.”

“Asshole!” Harley exclaimed, sweetly sarcastic. “Is that a fact? All good stuff, I hope.”

“Hey, wow, you _are_ funny,” Jerome shot back, hand over his heart. “Just like he said.”

Ivy was so busy watching Bruce try to unruffle Jeremiah’s feathers that she almost missed the touch at her elbow.

“Hiya,” Ivy said, turning to face the perp. “You must be Five. I’ve gotta say, I love the boots.”

Five tilted his head. “I saw what you did. On the recording,” he clarified, shy and stumbling. “To Strange.”

“Well, that scumbag did us both pretty dirty, huh?” Ivy said, reaching for him. “Bridgit, too.”

Five latched onto her with a curious lack of reservation, letting Ivy hug him for a few seconds.

Alfred peered into the room. “Your remaining guests, Master Bruce. Shall I bring them in?”

“I can show you where the tool kit is,” Five whispered conspiratorially. “I’ll help you hang it.”

“You got yourself a deal,” Ivy replied, holding him out at arms’ length. “Treasure hunt!”

* * *

Edward thought Fish looked as out-of-place perusing Bruce’s bookshelves as Olga and Sveta did conversing with Alfred. Martín returned from greeting Jeremiah, with Bruce following, and grabbed Edward’s hand.

Oswald took one look at the mistletoe-hanging debacle in progress and rolled his eyes.

“Would somebody mind showing me to the bar?” he asked. “Ed, get me when it’s over.”

Jeremiah, who was lurking in the corner with a tumbler of whiskey, nodded at Oswald.

“You read my mind,” he said acerbically, already starting for the hall. “Right this way.”

“So, you got them here without anyone dying,” Edward whispered wryly to Bruce. “Mazel tov!”

“You should’ve seen what Alfred and I confiscated at the front gate,” Bruce said into his glass.

Five huffed when Ivy hoisted him down, impatiently smoothing his skirt as he approached.

“Mr. Nygma,” he said, the relative lack of inflection something Edward recognized instantly.

Martín leaned harder into Edward’s side, but he was staring at Five with something like awe.

Edward nodded. “Your relationship with names must be complicated. What should I call you?”

Five visibly relaxed his expression, perhaps touched that his feelings were under consideration.

“I’m thinking about taking Jerome’s,” he said. “Monroe isn’t right anymore. Just Five is fine.”

“What’s this about a complicated relationship?” Jerome asked, coming over to put an arm around Five. He studied Edward. “Fatherhood, huh? Seems like only yesterday you and Mr. Mayor were happy-go-lucky newlyweds.”

“Ex-Mayor,” Edward translated as Martín signed. “He wasn’t suited to politics. Are you two the newlyweds now?” He made a face. “Martín, _rude_.”

“Yes,” Five said happily, lifting his left hand. He showed off a platinum-set black diamond flanked by two carnelian cabochons. “We went to Vegas.”

“I would’ve gone with jade,” Edward said to Jerome, “but otherwise?” He flashed a thumbs-up.

* * *

Fish wasn’t surprised that Bruce hadn’t done much to thin out his late parents’ literary holdings.

It took Five about thirty minutes to sidle up to her, by which point almost everybody had left to either gab in the living room or join Oswald and Jeremiah. She turned, making eye contact with Jerome over on the sofa.

“Ms. Mooney?” Five asked, lovely in his dramatic make-up and black dress. He’d always been lovely, though.

“Little Five Monroe,” Fish said, setting her hands gently on his sheer-sleeved shoulders. “Just look at you, all grown up. All better, too. Doc Thompkins would’ve answered to me if not.”

Five glanced at Jerome, who returned the look adoringly, but stayed put. “Thank you,” he said.

“That one over there,” Fish said in Spanish, recalling what Ethel Peabody had told her about Five’s linguistic aptitude. “Is he treating you all right?”

“I would’ve killed him if he’d tried anything I didn’t like,” Five replied, and it was to Jerome’s credit that he didn’t bat an eyelash at Five’s fluency. “When we met, he said I deserved better. He’s kept his promise. Are you surprised?”

“Nothing surprises me anymore,” Fish said in Spanish, and then added, switching back to English, “so why don’t you come over here, Mr. Valeska. Well? You never seemed like the shy kind.”

Jerome rose calmly, but didn’t budge. “Nah. But a year and change ago, you wanted me dead.”

“I’d sooner have ordered a hit on Ed than let him touch Oswald, but…” Fish spread her hands. “I mean, look at you—sparing your brother’s life.”

“What can I say?” Jerome quipped, strolling over to join Five. “Five made an honest man of me.”

“You’d better not be lying about _that_,” Fish said. “Hurt him, and I’ll pull the trigger myself.”

* * *

After a doing some shots in the kitchen with the two biggest drags at Bruce’s party, Selina made her way to where the noise had migrated. One glance around the bustling, festive living room told her that Fish wasn’t there.

Neither were Jerome and Five. Wouldn’t it just be her fucking luck if they’d gotten bored?

Selina spun on her heel and tore down the hall. She almost slammed into Fish, who was making her way toward the action.

“I’m fine, if that’s what’s got your whip in a twist,” Fish said. “Maybe steer clear of the library.”

Selina rolled her eyes, letting Fish pass. “Whatever, Mom,” she replied, continuing on her way.

She’d be damned if she was going to let those weirdos go through Bruce’s notes and records. There were lots of reasons they might get nosy.

As usual, Selina ought to have listened to Fish. What she saw wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been, but she could’ve done without the mental image.

On the sofa facing her, Five and Jerome were so preoccupied they didn’t notice her presence. Jerome was seated sideways in Five’s lap, his legs dangling over the sofa’s arm. They’d been mumbling between kisses. The last thing Jerome said sounded like _princess_.

“Mistletoe’s over here, dipshits,” Selina retorted, pointing upward as she froze in the doorway.

Five took the initiative to respond, because Jerome didn’t seem inclined to acknowledge her.

“Do you mind?” he asked, prickly as ever. Cosmetics and time had done unfairly well by him.

“Nah, but Bruce might,” Selina shot back. “And even if he won’t, you _know_ who will.”

“We haven’t done anything indecent, officer,” Jerome said. “I swear on my mother’s grave.”

That sent both of them into an irreverent, unsettling giggle-fit. Selina flipped them off and left.

* * *

Over eggnog with Sveta, Olga took in the mishmash of Christmas and Hanukkah décor.

“Never thought I would say,” Olga mused, “but Oswald has me decorate more tasteful.”

“I guess that’s the difference between old money and nouveau riche,” Sveta said. “One gives no fucks, and the other gives way too many.”

“Is crass,” Olga said. “I do not care how the other girls speak in this house, but you—”

Everyone nearest to the door quieted when Selina stalked in. She looked furious.

“Would somebody _please_ get those freaks out of the library?” Selina demanded.

“What’s the matter, Kyle?” Sveta asked, wickedly teasing. “Want a turn in there with Pike?”

“Uh, _yeah_,” Selina said, causing Bridgit to chug her eggnog. “I kinda do, Bellson.”

“I will try,” Olga sighed, handing Sveta her eggnog. “Is only fair to give others a chance.”

Bruce looked more concerned than scandalized as Olga left, but didn’t move to follow her.

The music reached Olga’s ears before she reached the library. Beyond the mistletoe-baited doorway, inside, someone’s mobile phone sat on the arm of the sofa. It was playing Leonard Cohen’s _Take This Waltz_.

The boys were dancing around the room as well as the limited space would permit. Every time they bumped into a sofa, an armchair, or the desk, they started laughing again. They didn’t look manic. They looked _happy_.

Jerome whirled Five to a halt, holding him tight. “Penguin’s butler, right? Long time no see.”

Olga was so startled to hear her revised title on the lips of a one-time invader of her employers’ home that she involuntarily smiled.

“When the song is done,” she said sternly, but kindly, “come talk, _da_? We will start over.”

“We will, Ms. Agapova,” Five said, as polite and ladylike as Fish had said. “We promise.”

* * *

Bridgit slipped out of the living room’s chaos about two minutes after Selina, on her way to the bathroom, said to meet her in the library in five minutes. She hoped Olga’s polite, yet insistent request had been enough to chase off the most recent occupants.

As Bridgit got closer to the door, she could tell that it was now shut. The mistletoe hadn’t been knocked down as a result, although its ribbon was pulled dangerously taut. Just as she was about to knock, her irritation rising, the door unlocked and opened inward.

The flush on Five’s cheeks definitely _wasn’t_ the blush he was wearing. His eyes were hazy, and his lipstick needed touching-up. Five had an arm around Jerome’s shoulders, clinging as he kissed Jerome’s neck. Jerome supported him with an arm around his waist.

Admittedly, Bridgit had always gotten an aro-ace vibe off Jerome. From what she could see, aromantic was off the table. Asexual, maybe, but not repulsed where pleasing his partner was concerned. Five had the look of someone who’d just gotten good—well, _something_.

Bridgit found that she wasn’t all that disturbed at the thought of Jerome in a relationship.

“Action’s that way,” she said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder. “Olga wanted to talk?”

“My baby’s giving me a tour first,” Jerome explained. “Well, only the rooms I haven’t seen.”

“Let me guess,” Bridgit said, stepping over the library’s threshold. “That means the kitchen?”

“I don’t like eggnog,” Five complained, as if breaking down to confess. “I want a cocktail.”

“And you think Jeremiah’s just gonna make you one?” Bridgit asked, incredulous. “Uh, okay.”

“Nope, Birdman’s gonna make him one,” Jerome clarified, winking. “I can be _real_ persuasive.”

“Penguin,” Bridgit sighed, turning her back on them to flop on the nearest sofa. “Good luck.”

* * *

Oswald was beginning to suspect he might need to cut Jeremiah off. It was less that the young man couldn’t hold his liquor, and more that Oswald didn’t want him to do anything rash if certain…antagonistic parties decided to pay them a visit.

And, as Jerome escorted a loved-up looking Five into the kitchen, he _hated_ being right.

Jeremiah, on the opposite side of the center island from Oswald and the unwelcome arrivals, gave his brother a cold-eyed stare.

“Does Alfred keep bitters down here?” Five asked curtly. “Is there any juice in the fridge?”

“I can’t say I know what’s in there at any given time,” Jeremiah answered, with a level of condescension that shocked even Oswald.

“Princess doesn’t like eggnog,” Jerome confided, putting a companionable arm around Oswald. “Rumor has it this guy knows his way around a bar.”

Oswald shook him off, but smiled thinly in order to keep the peace. “What _does_ princess like?”

“Vodka martinis with bitters and mango juice,” Five replied snidely. “Orange juice would do.”

Jeremiah snorted and poured himself another finger of whiskey. “We might have one of those.”

Jerome was glaring at Jeremiah with more venom than Oswald would’ve expected. He’d always assumed the greater malice went the other way.

Five looked from Jerome to Jeremiah to Oswald, and then back again. He finally put his arms around Jerome’s neck, yanking him into a kiss that Oswald _definitely_ recognized as the sort Edward employed when he thought Oswald was about to lose his temper.

“Go upstairs and catch up with Olga,” Five murmured against Jerome’s lips. “I’ll be fine here.”

Jerome chuckled, all the fight gone out of him, pecking Five on the cheek. “I know, precious.”

Oswald gestured until Jeremiah, sulking, handed him the vodka. “Watch and learn, friend.”

* * *

Between catching wind of the youngsters’ nefarious use of the library and overhearing a reconciliatory conversation between Penguin’s butler and Jerome, Alfred needed an excuse to escape. Spotting a squad car just outside the gate was icing.

“How long d’you think they’ve been on stake-out?” Alfred asked Lucius, buttoning his coat.

Lucius shrugged, slightly in his cups. “It’s hard to say. I haven’t been paying attention.”

“Well, don’t you fret,” Alfred said, fetching three fresh cups of eggnog. “I’m going to sort it.”

“By having a drink with them?” asked Lucius, incredulously raising an eyebrow. “Right.”

“Listen, love,” said Alfred, “you know these gents as well as I do, maybe better. Get the door?”

Under the cover of dusk, Alfred found it difficult to confirm which officers were in the cruiser.

“Hey, if it isn’t everybody’s favorite limey,” Harvey said, rolling down the driver’s side window.

Jim leaned forward enough to peer outside with a frown. “Alfred,” he said. “Merry Christmas.”

“Same,” Alfred agreed, proffering the cups until each had taken one. “Mind if I join you?”

“You mean in the car?” Harvey asked, slurping his eggnog. “_Whooo-eee_. Nope.”

Once they’d grudgingly unlocked the vehicle, Alfred opened the back door and slid in.

“What brings you to this evening’s festivities?” Alfred asked, already knowing the answer.

“Personally?” Jim countered. “The lack of an invitation. Professionally? The entire guest-list.”

“Apologies,” Alfred sighed. “As you can imagine, Nygma brought more folks than expected.”

Harvey, who’d been chewing his lip, finally blurted, “Is it true about Jerome and that, uh…”

Alfred nodded, downing his drink. “He’s very much involved with Five. Very much in love.”

“Bruce is a trooper,” Jim said, finally taking a drink, “but I can’t imagine Jeremiah’s happy.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Alfred replied. “Feelings aren’t the sole factor in making reparations.”

* * *

Martín couldn’t believe that Jerome Valeska wanted to talk to him.

“Hi.” Jerome crouched. “Five was with your, uh, bird-dad and my bro. They dunno where he went.”

_Sounds like Dad_, Martín wanted to say, but he decided not to speak. He just nodded.

Jerome considered this. “I heard you know your way around. Think you can help me find Five?”

Martín grabbed Jerome’s hand. Bruce had told him about when Five first broke into Wayne Manor.

They came across Five in the conservatory. He was staring up through vine-strewn glass at the night sky.

“Sorry I scared you,” he said, turning to Jerome. He touched Jerome’s face. “Needed to think.”

Martín watched in fascination as Jerome kissed Five. It was soft, nothing like he had expected.

“You do what you need to do,” Jerome said. “I’m gonna be in the kitchen, since it’s not far.”

“Make them squirm!” Five called encouragingly as Jerome went out. He stared down at Martín.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Martín said in Spanish. “Fish said you knew how to…” He faltered.

Five dropped down like Jerome had, settling on his knees. “I didn’t know you could speak.”

“Bad things happened to us,” Martín said. “_Really_ bad things. And to Jerome, too, I think?”

Nodding somberly, Five seemed to hesitate. “You know it wasn’t just his mom who did it?”

“That guy the night he came back to life,” Martín said. “Dr. Strange. Even Jeremiah.”

Five didn’t visibly react, except the shift in his eyes. “Yeah, but things are changing.”

Martín held out his hands until Five took them. “Yes,” he said. “Getting better, right?”

Five used Martín’s leverage to pull himself up. “I literally got better thanks to Bruce.”

“Jerome’s getting better thanks to you,” Martín said, tugging at Five’s hands. “C’mon.”


End file.
